2. En L’air. In the air. We began this way: two bodies done leapt and floating, our muscles lithe with desire. Some people looked up, eyes shaded. We hung in the early light of the world, our breath whiskey-tinged, ragged. We began this way, our atoms vaulted and thrilling above the gathering crowd. And what did we see but their feet making tiny hops as if to join. We began in the air . . .

We have dredged the deep water. Trawled the dark trench. Lowered lines into the North Atlantic and hoisted sea stars, heavy and dripping. Made echo maps on wet paper: sending sound to bounce off the solid down there, while the whole world went quiet and we counted the seconds on our fingers. Go push your lips up to the salty wave, speak, and wait for the sound to be returned.